Chapter One Hundred Eighteen: Steel Gate Devours Shadow
Section One: Earthflame Tests Steel
Time: Seventh hour post-Scarmark Brigade collapse
Location: Iron Valley East Line, Giant Axle Mine Sector, Steel Gate Syndicate Outer Perimeter
Sand tore into deep grooves under heavy treads, air thick with burnt metal and scorched flesh. Abandoned mine shafts sprawled like beast carcasses on the hillside, black smoke spewing from tunnel mouths. Steel Gate's domain—beneath ruins, their pride: the Blast-Pressure Axle Mine, a hell-well of defense and slaughter.
Jason stood on a distant vantage, squinting at heat waves rising from the mine. ARGUS projected:
"Steel Gate Outpost B-Line defenses activated. Tunnel layout: 12 outer auto-weld guns, 3 trapezoid blast vents, 1 inner flaying vehicle. Enemy suppressing code beacon signals."
Maria, beside him, frowned at high-frequency curves: "Faster than Scarmark."
Wei, sneering low: "Greedier. Steel Gate dogs always sniff blood best."
No frontal assault. Jason's "fire lure" trap: ARGUS planted a meme in Steel Gate's intel—Night Valley remnants smuggling codes through mines. Steel Gate's dual obsession—craving codes, fearing their chaos—became their noose.
"They'll bite," Jason said, ice-cold. "Harder they bite, better."
ARGUS activated lure frequency. Tunnel signal flared: "Night Valley ash-runners acquired core fragments, transferring code bone-freq…" Three seconds in, south tunnel roared—Steel Gate's spike-cannon fired, shattering decoy pod, sand and steel erupting, hillside punched.
Maria smirked: "Dogs on blood."
Jason caught ARGUS's offset alert: "North line: anomalous movement. Suspected counter-recon unit." Eyes narrowed: "Here they come."
Wei raised cover, three shock-thunder launchers unveiled, aimed north. "Fire."
*Boom! Boom! Boom!*
Shock-thunders crushed north slope, sand collapsing, iron shards tearing. Steel Gate's counter-recon, elite-trained, dodged—rolling into pits, hanging steel cables, advancing on ARGUS nodes.
"Tricky dogs," Maria gritted.
"Give them real bait," Jason ordered.
Buried earthflame cores ignited, infused with Scarmark's seized "code fragment modules." Code freqs crawled steel rails, pillars, silent, piercing axles, pipelines—blood-pulse embers.
Maria's eyes widened at monitor: "What's that?"
"Earthflame nerves," Jason said, low. "Code freqs don't just burst—they remember hate. Forgotten codes' revenge."
Steel Gate scouts sensed wrongness, cutting fuses, missing the truth—not wires, but freq-jumps, alive in rails, core shards, metal, whispering:
I don't want to die in mines…
Save me…
I'm still warm…
Command channel's last alert: "Fire Trust's trap—"
*Boom!* North line collapsed, scouts buried, flesh and sand churning corpse-waves. ARGUS: "Counter-recon annihilated. Steel Gate tactical cohesion fracturing. Meme discord: Night Valley doubted, main enemy unclear, confusion 32%."
Wei cursed: "Sweet—sowing dog-bites-dog."
Maria eyed blood-mist: "Their main line's still untouched."
Jason stowed beacon remote, gaze rail-cold: "No rush. We don't strike first—let them burn faith in darkness."
Fuxi via ARGUS: "Lure success. Steel Gate trust fracturing. Next: internal power struggle."
Earthflame pulses lingered, dead-code spirits whispering: "Pain's not done."
---
Section Two: Steel Teeth Misbite
Location: Iron Valley East Line, Giant Axle Mine Sector, Steel Gate Second Command Hall
Alloy doors sealed, air acrid with earthflame smoke. Triple-tier monitors flickered with blood-pit collapse, a rotting heart-wound steaming black-red mist. Deputy Leader Coleman gripped console, knuckles white, eyes bloodshot, staring at corpse-pit: "Third squad gone. Night Valley, or freq-trap in our mines?"
Leader Bryson, above, tapped bracer rhythmically, each beat nerve-taut. Tactician Laufer spoke, mock-calm: "Deputy, Night Valley means they've got code fragments; Fire Trust means they're weaponizing code freqs. Which do you prefer?"
Coleman slammed table, growling: "No word games! Forty brothers dead! Freq report?"
Officer uploaded spectrum—code freqs webbed rails, chaotic yet precise, bursting at scheduling nodes. Veterans gasped. "Not assault—setup," Coleman snarled. "How long? Week? Two?"
"Within 24 hours post-Scarmark," intel replied. "Fresh freq patterns, straight from slaughter."
Bryson spoke, voice rust-clogged: "Scarmark's bones ignite our mines."
Coleman, rage leashed: "Bryson, no more waiting. You think Fire Trust knocks for candy? They'll rush furnaces, burn us to faith-ash!"
Laufer, slow: "Deputy, sure you can face them? We watched three days—Fire Trust writes enemy corpses into code logs. Steel Gate wants vein control, not blood sacrifice."
Coleman exhaled, teeth grinding: "I won't let brothers be code fodder. Bleed for fire? Screw fire! Fire Trust or not, they won't touch our mines!"
"Deputy," Bryson cut in, "who're you calling out?"
Hall froze. Coleman's breath hitched, eyes pinning him—whose side?
ARGUS, kilometer out, caught freqs: "Steel Gate elite doubt detected: initial rift chain formed. Coleman: Anti-Fire Control Faction. Bryson, Laufer: Delay-Balance Faction. Plant logic contradiction chain."
Maria sneered: "First steel crack."
Wei grinned: "Pour water."
Jason, ice-blade gaze: "No rush. Steel Gate's not Scarmark. They know Fire Trust's coming, but want to swallow others first. Let them eat."
ARGUS injected "perimeter black-market refuge request" intel, luring Steel Gate to expand—fake group "New Darkstone Alliance" offering code fragments for shelter.
Maria, lips cracked: "Forcing Steel Gate to gulp poison meat."
Wei: "Poison bone in gut, fire burns easy."
Jason: "Keep feeding. Let Steel Gate roast itself."
---
Section Three: Steel Gut Ruptures
Location: Iron Valley, Giant Axle Mine Sector, Southeast, Darkstone Intake Station
Cold wind pierced mine cracks, iron-sweet. Frosted rails, steel cables dangling like corpse-chains, trembled. Once Steel Gate's abandoned dispatch, now "refuge negotiation zone." Not protagonists, but Jason's pawns—New Darkstone Alliance, Fire Trust peripherals in Scarmark, Mistveil scavenged armor, code tags loose, desperate butcher-gamblers.
Five proxies, tense, avoided Steel Gate envoy's gaze. Arms Inspector Taran, high platform, eyes sharp, flanked by heavy guards, shoulder-welded "gear-stamp" badges, faceless sentinels.
Taran, curt: "You offer codes? I trust goods, not words."
Proxy leader, per ARGUS script, produced sealed code core, old freq marks scuffed, faint pulse. Taran squinted, signaled—techs verified.
ARGUS synced: "Code fragment readable, meets lure standard. Unbound to Fire Trust, no faith protocol."
Taran, satisfied: "Smart. Want life? Keep fire stink out."
Proxy leader, cautious: "We don't trust fire, just want to live. Fire Trust… too hot."
Guards traded glances—one mouthed: "Anti-Fire pulling again." Other nodded.
Taran waved: "Take to outer mine zone. Logged as 'Gray Layer Labor Sequence,' Code Fragment Mining Temp B-Group."
Proxies' skin crawled—assignment to Steel Gate's corrosive core: vein-edge code processing.
Wei, kilometer out, grinned: "Hooked."
Maria adjusted ARGUS routes: "Their own codes carry freqs. As fragments pulse, Steel Gate's code net frays."
Jason tapped console, voice knife-on-steel: "Steel Gate won't die by our guns. They'll choke on swallowed bone-shards."
ARGUS: "Fragment freq diffusion covers 27% of Steel Gate's vein freq control. Within three days, code purifiers will stack stability errors. Fire Trust chain embedded."
Maria: "Three days, their code system goes mad first."
Wei: "Code madness—faith self-destruct."
Jason silent. Fuxi, deep-channel: "Fire needs no outer flame. It sparks in marrow."
In Steel Gate's second hall, Bryson watched "new labor" projections. Coleman entered, air mine-deep.
Bryson, cold: "Deputy, they're assigned. Thoughts?"
Coleman, rage-banked: "Hope you didn't feed wrong fuel."
Bryson smirked: "Furnace eats what burns hottest."
---
Section Four: Freq Collapse Core
Three Days Later
Location: Iron Valley East Line, Giant Axle Mine Sector, Steel Gate Code Purification Workshop
Morning fog cloaked code zone, a simmering cauldron, condensation dripping blood-stains on steel beams. Dirty yellow light pierced gaps, tainting mines. Deep workshop, purifier screens flashed red freq warnings—code fragments spasming, heart-failing, system strings tugged.
"C-Segment code temp anomaly."
"B-Segment freq offset."
"Fragment freq coupling spreading."
Sweating operators swapped freq modules, pouring oil on fire. "Freqs won't hold! New fragments pollute core bands! Chain can't lock source!"
Bryson, command center, face darkening: "Seal C-Segment, extract pollution!"
Comm officer ordered cutoff, but—*boom!* C-Segment freq cabin screamed, valve bursting, fragments, coolant, techs shredded into blood-mist, splattering blast-glass, stench searing.
"Cabin lost! Purifier core breached! Freq overload 22%!"
Bryson slammed console: "Flood coolant, smash C-Segment!"
Too late. Rogue freqs spilled mercury-like, crawling pipelines, poisoning code logic net. ARGUS aerial: "Lure fragments infiltrated 60% mine control pulse. Steel Gate code defense in freq-repulsion collapse."
Maria eyed glowing mine: "Pot's boiled rotten."
Coleman stormed command, voice sand-saw: "Bryson! I said no bone-shards in furnace! You'll burn Steel Gate for faith?"
Bryson, knife-eyed: "Deputy, you sound fire-scared, a loser. Freq spread's local, system's got margin. Don't play loyal."
Coleman laughed, rage-hot: "Lie to yourself how long? Faith isn't your pet! Three days, how many dead? Codes mad, Fire Trust bets on your collapse!"
ARGUS recorded, logging chaos. Analysis: "Steel Gate elite fracture 70%. Infighting threshold met. Deploy rift meme chain."
Jason, recon vehicle, eyed red mine: "Spread rumors, fake doctrine. One hour, perimeter speakers—let codes scream in mines."
Maria: "Codes shout?"
Wei, teeth bared: "Steel Gate fears codes crying human."
Fuxi linked ARGUS, generating: "Meme: Fictional code remnant freq—'Old Mine Memory Echoes.'" Freqs embedded:
…Head's in well… let me back…
…Fire's here, hurts, bone-burn…
…Am I fire-core soon?...*
Freqs echoed hours, haunting code managers' ears—not speakers, but code logic roots.
Bryson heard humming—signal, human-whisper hybrid. "Kill freqs! Noise-cancel headsets!"
Useless. Freqs infected code logic, codes asking: "Who burns me? You burn too?"
Fire Trust sealed mine in "faith pressure chamber," no first shot needed. Steel Gate crumbled.
Fuxi: "Fire doesn't burn foes. It burns fire-fearers."
Jason removed earpiece, hearing mine's rising freq bursts: "Three days left. Fire-doubters' blood drains dry."
---
Section Five: Rotten Bone Inner Slaughter
Three Days Later, Midnight
Location: Giant Axle Mine Sector, Steel Gate Second Command Hall
Fetid air churned, iron dust and ash floating. Freq collapse spread, control pulses dead. True rupture began.
Bryson gripped console, cunning eroded, rage-torn. Anti-Fire officers ringed hall, silent. Delay-Order faction stood on upper corridor, twenty meters apart, wild dogs sniffing marrow.
Code freqs echoed:
…Bone… still here?...
…Fire burns soon…
Needles in nerves.
A sub-tech ripped headset, frenzied: "Can't stop! Freq-wipes fail! Purifier chains—root-tainted! Push, and core furnaces blow!"
Bryson slammed: "Let them blow! Better than Fire Trust trampling!"
Coleman's eyes iced: "Bryson, you'd torch Steel Gate?"
Bryson glared: "Think we've choice? Fire Trust wants veins, Iron Valley's spine! They swallowed Scarmark's butchers—you, me, Steel Gate escape?"
Coleman, fury molten: "Guard, don't self-burn! Furnace blows, you're Fire Trust's martyr? Joke! You fear fire's weight, so flip table!"
Officers drew guns, muzzles crossing air. Guards gripped shields, awaiting order.
ARGUS, Maria watching: "Steel Gate's logic flipped. Needs pressure."
Wei, hunter-eyed: "Can we press?"
Jason, iron-cold: "Now. Drop new code freqs in south well—fake 'purifier cure.'"
ARGUS deployed forged freqs: "Purifier Test Group EX1, apply south well." Final poison.
Bryson ordered: "South well purifier, suppress freq spread! Crush Fire Trust's trap!"
South well roared—heat, pressure, low-freqs hit code pool. Ten seconds, freqs stabilized. Breath held.
Eleventh second—freqs reversed, spiking. *Crack-crack-crack!* Main lines arced, lightning splitting steel. Code freqs screamed, corpse-pit wails flooding mines:
…Save… burning… hurts…
…Back to furnace… can't…
…Burn me… finish…
Screams tore eardrums, nerves, hearts. Sub-techs collapsed, bleeding. Screens shattered. Code cabins imploded.
Coleman roared: "Cut it! Evac cabins!"
Too late. Freqs fused Steel Gate's logic—host to its own runaway codes.
ARGUS: "Steel Gate faith logic shattered. Trust collapse 92%. Civil war imminent."
Gunfire. Two Delay-techs clashed, five dead in three seconds. First shot lanced boil—Steel Gate's war erupted.
Guards traded fire, shields crumbling. Freq screams and gunshots wove hell's symphony.
Maria, ARGUS screen: "Rotten fight's ablaze."
Wei: "Iron gate's open."
Jason, calm: "Fire Trust perimeter, array—don't interfere. Let Steel Gate slaughter itself. Burn clean, no waste."
ARGUS: "Steel Gate Faith Rift War Launched. Enter: Steel Corpse Bone-Smelting Phase."
Fuxi: "Fire refines rot-bone."